


Make it easy

by Vanemis



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Rough Kissing, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Smut, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-04-30 05:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14490180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanemis/pseuds/Vanemis
Summary: Negan takes Daryl out on a long run past their borders and Daryl finds himself enjoying their time together, much to his disgust and confusion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StackerPentecost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StackerPentecost/gifts).



> Daryl is never taken by the Saviors. Instead he carries on living at Alexandria.

The convoy of trucks and vans rumble past the gates, lining themselves up in careful order before the swarm of armed Saviors flood Alexandria in search of their tributes. The beaten up RV parks differently, angled away from the trucks to make an easier escape.

  
Rick stands with a small group of his people nearby, observing the now common scene with a grimace. Negan strides out onto the open, brandishing his bat with a dramatic flourish as his eyes fall on Rick and a confident smirk crawls onto his face. He turns briefly to say something to one of his men and then continues to stalk closer to Rick.

  
“Hey there, what a nice little welcoming party. You miss me? I sure fucking missed you!” Negan exclaims loudly, causing Rick to wince under the startling noise. He schools his features into passiveness, keeping eye contact.

  
“We’ve got everything you asked for,” Rick says with a nod towards the convoy already filling up. Negan glances over his shoulder, a pleased grin replacing the smirk.

  
“I’m glad, Rick. We don’t need this to get messy.” Negan chuckles when Rick frowns even more, but then he looks around at the small group Rick brought along. “You know what? I was gonna take you on a little roadtrip, but I think I found someone else to take with me.”

  
Negan smirks again, and steps closer towards Daryl. The hunter had stayed back, watching and listening from a safe distance, but as the Savior approaches, he finds himself grounded in place.

  
“I think you and me should get to know each other a little better, don’t you?”

  
Daryl doesn’t reply. He glares coolly through his long hair at Negan, unwavered by the close proximity of the unhinged man. When a moment has passed and Daryl still hasn’t spoken, the smirk drops and Negan leans closer. Lucille raises up to eye level but to Daryl's credit, he doesn’t flinch or look towards the weapon. He keeps his eyes trained on Negan.

  
“I asked you a fucking question, Daryl,” Negan growls, his nose nearly brushing Daryl's.

  
“Yeah. Sure, I guess.” The response is mumbled quietly between them.

  
Negan observes him for a tense moment, eyes scanning Daryl's face just for the sake of unnerving the younger man. But then he pulls away like nothing happened and grins. He moves to stand next to him and wraps an arm around Daryl's shoulders to bring him closer, Lucille extended away from the hunter's body to avoid catching on his clothes. His arm is careful to avoid the crossbow. Daryl stumbles a little under the force but regains his balance in time for Negan to start marching him toward the RV.

  
“You don’t mind me borrowing your boyfriend, do you Rick?”

  
Daryl tenses under his arm, inclining his head down away from Negan's sight. Rick huffs, shaking his head. He wants to tell Negan to fuck off, to leave Daryl alone and take him instead because he knows what these trips include. He’ll try to humiliate the hunter, pit him up against walkers and danger without a care. The problem isn’t whether Daryl can handle the threat, it’s whether he can keep his cool around Negan once they’re alone. They all want to kill the bastard, and he might just do it.

  
“He’s not- Just bring him back safe.”

  
“Who do you take me for? We'll be back in a few days. Keep your fucking hair, Rick,” Negan adds quickly when Rick moves to protest. “I’ll take good care of him.” Negan pulls Daryl even closer, stroking his shoulder almost lovingly with the knuckles of his thumb.

  
Before anyone can begin protesting, Negan starts walking away again with Daryl tucked safely against him. When they reach the RV, he pulls the door open like a gentleman and lets Daryl climb on first. But before that, he yanks at the crossbow and forces Daryl to give it up. Negan takes it and tosses it blindly inside the vehicle.

  
Daryl casts a glance at his friends, sending a tiny nod in Rick’s direction before he disappears inside. Negan follows without a word, slamming the door shut behind him. Soon, the engine rumbles to life and the gates open to let the RV out.

  
Rick watches with worry as the gates shut again. Deep down, he knows Daryl can handle himself out there. But Daryl has a short temper. If something happens out there and Negan doesn't come back or something equally terrible befall him, Alexandria will suffer for it. For now, there’s nothing Rick can do so instead he watches the Saviors finish up and return to Sanctuary with their hard earned supplies.

 

Day 1

  
Daryl sits quietly inside the RV, eyes scanning the leaf-covered road. The thick trees are rust coloured, golden sun rays shining through the canopy that arches over. Old rock plays out of the ancient system, and he can hear Negan tapping his fingertips to the rhythm on the steering wheel.

  
Just when he thinks this will be a quiet roadtrip, Negan opens his mouth and ruins the near-peaceful silence.

  
“Aren’t you going to ask me where we're going?”

  
He sees Negan briefly glances at him, from the corner of his eye, but Daryl just shrugs, happily thrilled with the idea of not talking and just getting this trip over and done with.   
Negan had said they’d be gone for days. It either means he’s got a lot planned or he wants to expand his borders, maybe check our some places he didn’t have time to before. Whatever they find, Daryl’s certain it’s not going to go to the Alexandrians.

  
“I forgot you’re a quiet one,” Negan muses with a soft laugh. “You’ve really got to work on your communication, buddy. All that gruff, tough son-of-a-bitch bullshit makes it really hard to tell what you’re thinking. I’m not saying it’s a turn off, but I'd fucking appreciate a couple words here and there.”

  
Daryl sighs and keeps his eyes on the road. A couple of houses filter through the dense forest but they’ve already tapped them out months ago, before the Saviors came along.   
He can feel the prickly tension coming from Negan, sees his quick and awaiting glances.

Finally, after five minutes, Daryl gives in.  
“Where you takin' me?”

  
Negan grins, sharp teeth on display like a feral animal.

  
“I’m thinking of checking out West Virginia. Haven’t gone there since before the apocalyptic shitstorm we're all in, but I remember a lot of good places to hit up. Fingers crossed we'll get lucky.”

  
“Can’t you have your lackeys do it for ya?” Daryl bites, mood souring further with the idea of leaving another state and putting hundreds of miles between him and home.

  
“And miss out on this bonding shit? Hell no! Plus even the leader's gotta pull his weight around. Can’t let myself forget what it’s like out here.”

  
Daryl turns his head to observe Negan, a curiosity building up in him without his permission. He’d always imagined Negan relaxing behind his walls, never coming out unless he needs to threaten somebody. But those are just words, he still has to step outside and prove he can handle himself beyond his walls.

Out here, there’s no backup. Daryl’s used to it, living out in the wild, breathing and living the very environment around him until he was one with it. That’s almost expected of someone like him, but Negan... He’s different. He doesn’t seem like somebody who can handle months and months of outdoor living, trapping his own food and skinning it with a blunt knife under the pouring rain with just a couple of trees to shield you from the worst of it.   
No. No, he’s the type to send others out for that task. He’ll be warm and dry inside his walls and not worrying about his next meal.

 

It’s getting dark when Negan decides to pull over and stop for the night. Daryl doesn’t bother suggesting he could take over. He doesn’t know the way, and Negan would hardly give him a map.

  
Negan sighs as his hand falls from the keys, rubbing at his eyes and beard as a loud yawn escapes him. He gets up, stretching like a cat, between the two seats. His shirt lifts up and Daryl looks away from the sharp hipbones protruding from the elastic band of the man’s boxers. He also promptly ignores the sultry moans Negan makes as the bones in his spine and arms click back into place. Negan’s just doing it to annoy him, or something like that. Daryl just keeps looking out the window.

  
“You sure we should stop here?” He asks, eyeing the empty road with doubt.

  
They passed a sign for a camping site a mile back but it’s too late to double back, plus it could have walkers waiting in the dark for them. Here it’s quiet, with no signs of homes or offices. Still, people could be in the woods and fields around them and get curious about the engine noise.

  
“Worried about my safety?”

  
“Hell no. Just don’t want nobody coming close.”

  
“There’s nowhere else nearby safer and I’m not driving anymore tonight. Now, I’ve got an important question for you.”

  
Daryl glances over his shoulder and the seat, and sees Negan beginning to dig through a bag he’d thrown by the kitchenette. After a moment, he holds up some cans.

  
“I’ve got normal, basic as fuck, chilli or vegetable soup. Which one d’you want?”

  
“Soup.”

  
Negan pauses for a moment, as though he haven’t expected that answer, and then shrugs. He sets up the stove and gets dinner started with an ease Daryl couldn’t imagine Negan possessing. It’s almost pleasant to watch. Negan's jacket lays draped across the back of the driver's seat and Daryl can see just how white and clean the man's t-shirt is.

It’s ridiculous how clean Negan is compared to anybody at Alexandria, the Kingdom or the Hilltop. Sure, Alexandria has hot water through the recycled systems and solar panels but that doesn’t mean they waste the water on doing laundry almost daily.

  
Carol manages to sneak Daryl’s clothing into her machine once in a while, but aside from that, Daryl’s happier not wasting supplies just to smell like lilies or detergent everyday. Yet looking at Negan, it’s clear he doesn’t share the same ideology or care.

  
“Food's ready. You gonna come here and sit with me like a polite, reasonable person? Or are you gonna sulk in the corner?”

  
Reluctantly, Daryl gets up from the seat. The bead-mat chimes underneath him. The RV reminds him of Dale's old junker; compact yet homey. There’s a bed tucked into back with several thick blankets and a plush array of floral and patterned pillows. A tiny kitchenette takes up the wall opposite the door, and a booth near the bed. A single door leads to the bathroom.

  
Negan sets out bowls of their canned goods, now steaming in two saucepans. Again, Daryl doesn’t see the point on making more hard work but he sits down and takes the offered food. He scoops into it without so much as a thank you, nearly burning his tongue in the surprisingly tasty soup.

  
“Gee, Negan, thanks for making me dinner,” Negan mocks with a bad imitation of Daryl's low, grumbling voice.

  
“Thanks.”

  
Negan observes him, a tiny smile playing on his lips, before he grabs at his fork and tries to enjoy the food that thankfully hasn’t expired yet. Hopefully. It’s not like he’s been keeping track of the days. Someone out there probably is, making their own little calendars.

When dinner is out of the way, Negan grabs their bowls and tosses everything in the sink without so much as a care. Daryl watches him, unable to stop himself from judging the man.

  
“You ain’t gonna clean that?”

  
Confusion skitters across Negan's face before he frowns and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning forward slightly.

  
“Are you?”

  
“No.”

  
“Neither am I. So tough shit. By the way, the bed's mine. You’re welcome to come join me. I promise to keep my hands to myself, unless you wanna get it on.” A sharp laugh fills the RV as Daryl frowns and pulls a face of utter disgust. “Didn’t think so. Here,” Negan pulls off a blanket and a pillow from the nest and throws them at Daryl. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  
“You trust me to stay?” Daryl says before the filter in his brain can stop him. He receives a chilling grin.

  
“No, I don’t. But I know you’re not as stupid as you look. Out there at night, miles from home, you know as well as I that that is a goddamn shitty idea. You’re welcome to try, though. Just know that I will hunt you down and drag your ass back here kicking and screaming. That and, of course, your people will pay for whatever bullshit you cause. Have a good night, Daryl. Sweet dreams and all that.”

  
Negan flicks at a light switch, sending the RV into darkness. The only light comes from the moonlight filtering through the wooden blinds behind the bed. There’s no curtain for privacy so he can see Negan sitting on the bed to take off his boots.

  
Daryl doesn’t turn away from the sight, hiding in the shadows of the booth. He grabs the blanket in his lap and wraps it around himself, placing the pillow partly against the wall and the table. It’s not the comfiest arrangement but it will do.

  
Negan shuffles into bed, pulling his own blankets over himself quietly as he turns away to face the wall, his torso bare and wide shoulders peeking out and catching the light.

  
Daryl watches him for a while, sees the constant ups and downs of the man's even, slow breathing, and feels the knife he has strapped to his thigh holster with his fingertips. His hand closes over the handle, pulling it out of the sheath and relishing in its comforting weight.

  
The blanket is pushed to one side as Daryl stands and stalks towards Negan, knife held at the ready. It could be so easy, sinking the blade under his ribs or twisting it into the base of his skull. Daryl wouldn’t bother drawing things out, that would give Negan a chance to fight back.

  
“You can fucking try,” the man grumbles from under the blankets, not even bothering to face Daryl as he speaks. Daryl must have been too caught up in his head to notice the change in Negan's breathing.

  
“What makes you think I won’t?” Daryl spits back, gripping the knife tighter. He knows why, of course he does. Entertaining the thought of killing Negan is all he can really do.

  
Negan finally twists to look at the hunter, one arm folded up under the pillow. He looks like somebody who’d just be resting lightly, not fully awake as his eyes have that drowsiness to them, but still able to articulate and focus well enough. It makes it so much worse. Negan isn’t even afraid of falling asleep around his enemies.

  
“’Cause you will get all your people killed by doing that. Try as you might, every step you fucking take in that direction will ruin their chances at survival. Are you honestly that stupid to think that I don’t have my finger on the damn trigger? I don’t need to be standing right in front of them to kill them.”

  
Negan moves to sit, bringing his knees up to rest his elbows on them. His posture is that of nonchalance, unafraid of the knife or the burning hatred in Daryl's eyes.

  
“Let me make something very clear to you, Daryl. There is a bullet with Rick’s name on it. Michonne, Carl, Rosita, Maggie. They all have bullets with theirs names on them. Everybody in those communities is at risk of becoming a fucking flesh-eating, rotting, piece of nightmarish shit. And the thing is, Daryl,” Negan says as his voice drops into a soft murmur.

  
He leans in, untangling himself from the sheets to raise himself on his knees so he can look Daryl in the eyes. They’re almost the same height, Negan coming up slightly shorter, but he’s too close to Daryl's face. He can feel the man's warm breath, the scent of mint washing over him in a way that only angers Daryl further. But he refuses to budge or to look away. Instead he holds the gaze.   
And then Negan's fingers brush against his hand. Daryl didn’t know he could be this tense, the cold weight in his stomach twisting uncomfortably as the Savior takes the knife from his hand without a fight.

  
“The thing is, I own you. I own every goddamn person in Alexandria. I control you because I know you would never risk their lives for some shitty revenge. I think deep down I admire that about you people, but, Daryl, I am in charge here and there is nothing you can do about it. Killing me won’t change that. Do us both a favour and focus that anger and attention on what lies ahead.”

  
Daryl fully relinquishes the knife, letting Negan take it. He’s right. He can’t kill the man in front of him. He can’t come back to Alexandria with Negan alive and well. There’s nothing he can fucking do except let the other man lead him around on a leash like a dog.

  
“Nice knife. Here, you’ll need it for tomorrow.” Negan flips the knife so that Daryl can grab the handle. If that isn’t the biggest and hardest punch to Daryl's pride, he doesn’t know what is. He takes the knife back, sheathing it safely before Negan changes his mind. “Now go the fuck to sleep. You woke me up with all that damn heavy breathing down my neck.”

  
And with that, Negan wraps himself back up in the blankets. He faces the wall again, his shoulders peeking out and his breathing shallow but steady. Daryl returns to the booth, draping the blanket up to his shoulder and rubbing his face into the pillow until it’s comfortable enjoy to sleep.

 

  
He wakes a couple of times in the night, startled by his nightmares and personal jitteriness when he’s agitated and nervous. He glances at Negan; sees him rolled over onto his back, throat stretched out and limbs spread out in different direction. One arm is under the many pillows, the other slumped across his chest; his fingers twitching and moving along with his dreams. One knee is bent upwards and his other leg stretched out normally.

Every once in a while he makes noises, like he’s caught up in some dream that just replays over and over again. He doesn’t speak, though, or mumble any incoherent phrases. Just the occasional huffs and groans that remind Daryl of the many nights he spent beside his friends and was subjected to their nightmare-filled nights where they’d scream and yell out dead loved ones' names.

  
He wakes up again just as a tiny shred of sunlight glimpses over in the horizon. Everything around the RV is still consumed by the dark. Daryl thinks he hears a noise, maybe like a voice talking. He glances at Negan for what feels like the hundredth time that night but the other man is quiet, deeply asleep by the calm, blissed out look on his usually smarmy face.

  
Daryl stays where he is, hand unsheathing the knife without a thought like it’s become second nature. It has. It did, a long time ago.   
Minutes roll by, in absolute silence, before he hears it again. A groan. He risks standing up just to peek out of the tiny window on the door. Something moves just past the dirty glass, followed by a groan. After a minute, Daryl dares the open the door just an inch to get a better look. There’s nothing there.

  
Disbelieving that the threat is gone, he steps outside. It’s cold. The wind brushes harshly against his bare arms and it carries the groan again. Daryl rounds the other side of the RV, curiosity drowning out the fear.

  
The cause of the noise is wobbling towards the treeline, rags hanging off its bony frame. It’s just a walker. Daryl sneaks up behind it, stabbing it through the base of the skull and aiming his knife upwards. The walker slumps to the ground as Daryl yanks the blade out, splattering a semi circle of black blood on the tarmac.

  
The wind bites at his skin, goosebumps raising on the tanned flesh. He glances back at the RV. He could leave, hell he’s already stepped outside and Negan hasn’t followed him. Maybe he’s giving Daryl a choice.

  
His eyes fall on the road, back in the direction they came from. They’ve only driven a few hours, crossed a hundred miles at most. Probably less. He could do it, walk back and get home to Rick and a hot meal at his table.   
Negan's threat hangs over his head. Every bullet has a name on it. Daryl can’t dare to forget that. He takes one long look at the horizon again. It will be dawn soon and he needs to rest.

With an angry huff, he heads back into the RV and shuts the door quietly behind him. He’d left it open in his hurry but nothing has crawled inside. Negan has moved slightly but Daryl strongly doubts the other man even woke up. Daryl gets back under his blanket again and nods off, his hand gripping his knife like a lifeline.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying this! Let me know what you think so far :)

“Rise and shine, asshole,” Negan exclaims as a means of waking Daryl up from his light sleep. Daryl startles awake, jolting forward with his knife raised, only to notice the blanket trapping him too late.

  
Negan laughs mockingly and stretches out a hand to ruffle Daryl's hair. The hunter growls, unused to be so openly touched, and unwraps himself to stand. They’ve got a long day ahead of them and Daryl will need to gather all the last drops of patience to deal with him. But Negan keeps him pinned under his hand, palm resting on Daryl’s forehead.

  
“You should cut your hair. Make yourself look more like a person than some wild beast.”

Negan grins at the chilling look he receives and threads his fingers into Daryl’s long fringe to move the stringy strands away from his eyes, pulling them back to frame his face. His hand stays in place for a moment, a strange expression in his eyes Daryl can’t understand.

  
“Much better.”

  
Finally he lets go and Daryl brings a hand to pet his hair down in the right place again with a huff. Negan doesn’t say anything. Instead he turns to his bag of supplies and pulls out a pair of apples, tossing one back at Daryl.

  
“We're heading out in 15 minutes. Go do whatever you need to.”

 

 

The road is empty with no sign of life whether breathing or undead. The trees finally thin after another hour, opening up a wide scenery of overgrown fields and scattered farms. They don’t stop, not until it’s after noon and Negan needs to stretch his legs.

  
“There’s a house over there. Think we should check it out?” Negan asks once they’re both outside for some much needed fresh air. Daryl wasn’t expecting to be asked for his opinion.

  
“I guess. Never gone so far in this direction before.”

  
“Okay. Grab your shit then. We’re leaving the RV here.”

Seeing Negan with Lucille makes Daryl's stomach turn. The bat had been left near the driver's seat the whole trip but now it’s back in its owner's hands. He wields it with an unnerving ease, swinging it over his shoulder and carrying it there as they head up to the homestead located just on a tiny hill.

  
There are wooden fences encircling the property, a tiny shed close by and a garage attached to the simple house. Animals were probably raised here, judging by the other fenced fields in the distance. Still, the place looks empty, desolate and abandoned yet untouched by bullets or walkers. The door isn’t barricaded, nor the windows. It seems like the owners just left and never came back.

  
“You take the front, I’ll check out the back. Meet me inside,” Negan orders confidently before heading towards the back garden.

Daryl watches him disappear around a corner and suddenly it’s a lot easier to get into the zone and ready himself for anything inside without Negan's distracting presence.

  
Once he’s up on the low porch, he glances through the coloured glass of the door. There’s no movement, so he taps noisily on it to bring forth any walkers. Nothing comes out, no noise either.

  
Daryl twists the handle, unsurprised to find it unlocked. Some many people ran out of their homes in a hurry. The interior is covered in a thick layer of dust, the air stuffy and in need of ventilating.   
He manoeuvres through the home, noting all the little trinkets and photographs on the mantel and shelves. The downstairs is clear, devoid of any trace of humans. Negan hasn’t found him yet, so perhaps he found something outside or decided to investigate the shed.

  
The stairs creak under his beaten up boots. A cloud of dust floats up from the carpeting with each step. Upstairs holds nothing more than a bathroom and two rooms, each with equally damaged mattresses. Old blood is splattered along the carpet of one room, like someone was held down and stabbed. Whatever happened here wasn’t recent. The blood is coloured like rust, almost turning mud-brown with age.

  
The house was just as abandoned as Daryl thought. He heads back into the bathroom to raid the cupboards. Toothpaste and some packaged soap is all he finds still in acceptable condition.   
The bedrooms don’t hold anything of interest. There’s nothing in the kid's room for Judith, no books or puzzles or anything to sharpen her mind. He’s normally able to find blankets or toys for her but whoever lived in this house was much older.

 

He turns to exit the room, huffing in anger at the lack of supplies in this place, and bumps straight into Negan. His brain short-circuits, his hand raising with the blade up to Negan’s throat. The Savior is quick at defending himself, blocking Daryl’s knife by grabbing his arm and spinning him to pin the hunter against the doorframe.

  
“Nice reflexes,” Negan comments as he wrenches Daryl’s arm behind his back and high enough to make him drop the weapon in pain. With a chuckle, he presses himself closer. His nose brushes at the long strands tenderly and his sharp laugh rings in Daryl’s ears when he fights back against the hold.

  
“Get off me!”

  
“Alright.”

Negan drops the hunter's arm and picks up the discarded knife to sheath it in Daryl’s holster. He lets his hand linger on Daryl’s thigh a little too long, observing the discomfort with a smirk before moving away completely and standing in the corridor.

  
“Gotta hand it to ya, didn’t think you’d block that.”

  
Daryl grabs the bag he’d thrown during the attack and shoulders it, sending a glare in Negan’s direction just to make sure the Savior doesn’t let the praise get to his head. Judging by the big grin, it already has.

  
“You took a long time getting your ass up here. You find something good?”

  
“Found walkers in the shed, nothing on them. You loot the kitchen?”

  
“Not yet.”

 

The kitchen is tiny with cupboards lining the walls, glass panels allowing Daryl to see the inside without bothering to dig through them. The fridge holds two cans of baked beans and more soup, of the mushroom variety, all which Daryl bags without a word. He’s the only one with a bag. Negan’s probably too lazy to carry one or trying to further prove his ownership. Either way, it ticks Daryl off.

  
When they finally leave the house, Daryl hasn’t found anything more of use. Negan doesn’t seem bothered. He claps a hand on the hunter's shoulder before climbing on and setting out for the road.

 

 

Negan is surprisingly quiet during the afternoon, humming songs from the cassette tapes he can’t seem to settle on for more than three songs.

  
“You gotta keep doing that? Ain’t you got a fucking mixtape?”

  
“Well, shit, Daryl. If only I had thought to bring my Ipod or maybe even my damn laptop!” Negan teases him with a raised eyebrow to fully display how ridiculous he thought Daryl’s complaint to be. “Oh right, I forgot we're in the damn apocalypse and ITunes doesn’t exist anymore, or the fucking internet for that matter. You got a fucking problem with my music choice, you pick something.”

  
Negan leans across to open the glove box and pulls out a box of cassettes that he hasn’t gone through yet. He’d grabbed one a while ago, frustratingly slow to find an album to his taste. Unceremoniously, the box is thrown in Daryl’s lap and some tapes fall onto the ground.   
The hunter gathers them up, glancing at the faded covers of old country and rock bands he’s never heard.

  
“This shit really yours?”

  
Negan throws him a blank stare, keeping his eyes off the road long enough to start unnerving Daryl.

  
“Watch the damn road.”

  
Negan laughs, shakes his head, and turns his head forward but his attention is certainly not on the empty street.

  
“To answer your question shortly, no. They’re not mine. Why the fuck do you think I keep skipping through to find something half decent. Simon threw his shit in there a while back and a bunch of guys and gals have felt the need to add to the compilation. The kind of shit I liked to listen to certainly won’t be on crappy, old tapes.”

  
“Right.” Daryl digs through the tapes, finding more and more artists he’d never known existed. “So what do ya like?”

  
“Post-rock. Metal. Some good electronic shit when I could find someone half decent on YouTube.”

  
“The fuck's post rock?”

  
There’s that damn blank look again. Negan sure likes conveying his emotions and thoughts in as many facial expressions as possible.

  
“Jesus fucking Christ. It’s like rock music but so much better. No lyrics, just instrumentals that fucking take you to a whole ‘nother world. Like space rock or- Shit, you probably don’t know what that is either. Okay, think of it this way. Picture yourself exploring worlds, kicking ass and all that. And then had some badass rock music to go with it. That’s post-rock. Shit, most of them were thinking of dystopian futures. We don’t have to look very far, do we?”

  
Negan has a little smile playing on his lips when he talks so passionately. His hand moves as he speaks, and he seems to light up a bit as his eyes lose that power-hungry madness to them. Daryl almost finds himself mirroring his smile before he realises what he’s doing and stops himself.

  
“I'd just blast some Black Sabbath.”

  
Negan laughs loudly, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in mirth at the sheer honesty in Daryl's flat tone. He ends up flicking up a tiny smirk and turning his head so the Savior can’t see it.

  
“Shit, I can actually fucking picture that. Don’t suppose...?” He inclines his head towards the box, a suddenly hopeful look in his eyes which is crushed an instant later when Daryl shakes his head.

  
“Just a bunch a' country shit, sorry.” Daryl bites his lip after apologising. He’d lost himself in the easy, playful, camaraderie; forgetting who he was talking to in the first place. If Negan noticed, he doesn’t point it out.

  
“Never took you for a Sabbath man. Figured the whole redneck, wildman thing meant guitars and old blues.”

  
“Nah, fuck that. Merle had metal playing on loop, so I grew up on it.”

  
“Who's Merle?”

  
“My brother. He’s... not around anymore, stupid sonofabitch got himself turned.”

  
“I’m sorry,” Negan says with sincerity. He pats Daryl’s shoulder, and Daryl lets him because it’s easier to let Negan do what he wants rather than fight it. Plus it’s kinda nice to talk about Merle and the good old days for once. Despite all the shit with their dad, it wasn’t all that bad with Merle.

  
“Thanks. Oh shit!”

  
“What’s wrong? Holy- Gimme that!” Negan swipes the tape from Daryl’s fingers and shoves it into the machine. The opening chords of Teen Spirit drift through the ancient speakers. “When I get home, I am gonna kiss whoever the fuck put Nirvana in that box.”

  
“Even if it’s Simon?”

  
Negan pauses to contemplate for a second and then nods his head once firmly with a grin. “Damn right. Nice one, Daryl.”

  
Daryl jolts under the friendly punch to his shoulder but he lets Negan have his fun. He doesn’t have to know Daryl enjoyed the playful touch. He’d let it go to his head anyways.

 

 

When they finally pull over for the night, Negan has worn out his voice attempting to sing every song on the album. His words are croaked but it never bothers him. Instead he laughs at himself with a tired smile and sips some water.

  
“Your choice again tonight. I’ve got... this weird looking stew or more soup.”

  
“Soup.”

  
“Alright. Hey, set it up for me. I gotta piss.”

  
Daryl nods and heads to the sink to wash up the forgotten dishes. The water drips slowly out of the tap but it’s enough for now. Negan has gone outside.

  
By the time he returns, the meals are warming gently on the stove. The RV fills with the scent of added flavourings and mushrooms and onions and the fire has heated up the small space comfortably.

  
“Damn roamer caught me with my fucking dick out,” he grumbles once he’s slammed the door shut. He leans Lucille by the frame, her barbs coated in thick, syrupy blood. “You didn’t have to cook, you know.”

  
“You took too long and I’m starvin’. I’m not sleeping next to that.” Daryl points the wooden spoon he’s been stirring the meals with at the bat. “Don’t need walker brains in my nose all night.”

  
“You won’t have to if you sleep in my bed.”

  
“Ain’t happening.”

  
“Fine. After the meal, I’ll throw some water on her. I didn’t exactly bring my cleaning kit with me. Figured someone like you wouldn’t care.”

  
“Just sit your ass down. Food's ready.”

  
In a flash, Negan is yanking his arm and grabbing at his jaw painfully. His fingers dig into flesh and bone and his eyes flash with a warning. Daryl took it too far. He let himself get caught up in all the simple fun of the afternoon and forgot his damn place. It’s under Negan's boot.

  
“Don’t ever fucking talk to me like that again. You can mess around and play house all you want but you do not get to talk down to me. I don’t need to remind you that I’m in charge, do I? Cause I have had a really nice fucking day with you and I don’t want you to ruin that by thinking you can get away with talking shit.”

  
Daryl blames the stinging in his eyes and their sudden blurriness on the pain. He bows his head in defeat, shaking it along to Negan’s questions until the man finally releases him.

  
“Say you’re sorry.”

  
“I’m sorry.”

  
“Say it like you fucking mean it!” Negan yells, face flushed and a venomous anger in his eyes. Daryl glances up through his fringe and holds his gaze.

  
“I’m sorry, Negan. You’re in charge. I won’t do it again.”

  
The anger dissipates as soon as it appeared, leaving Negan scoffing. He pulls at Daryl’s shoulder, fisting his shirt to move him away from the stove so he can turn off the heat before the meals can burn.

  
“Go sit down.”

  
The bowls are brought out again, and Negan thankfully doesn’t throw it down in front of Daryl. He’d half expected another violent outburst. Negan certainly isn’t the first to yell in his face or make it crystal clear where Daryl went wrong. The memories of their afternoon bubble up to the forefront of his mind. Suddenly the mention of his father spoils his appetite and every spoonful tastes like dirt. It wasn’t better back then. It isn’t better now. Just another person in a long line of people who’ve enjoyed bringing Daryl to his knees.

 

  
They eat in silence. No walkers come passing through. It’s just them, both desperately staring down into their meals to avoid any eye contact.   
Negan gets up first, tossing their used dishes in the sink. Daryl already knows he'll be cleaning them tomorrow.

  
“Night, Daryl. Thanks for cooking.”

  
“You’re welcome.”

  
Negan glances over his shoulder, a strange look flashing across his features before he nods once and throws Daryl’s blanket and pillow at him from where he’s dumped it on the floor to sit for dinner. He flicks the light, the RV plummeting into darkness that comforts Daryl.

  
The hunter doesn’t watch Negan sit down on the bed. He focuses on burying himself under the mountain of floral quilting so he can hide until the sun comes up. Just as he begins to drift off, Negan’s voice startles him.  
“Thanks for killing that walker last night. I heard you opening the door and leaving and I thought for sure you were gonna run out into the woods. I saw the body through the window. I’m glad you killed it.”

After a minute of silence, Negan calls  out to him again. “Daryl?”

  
The hunter peeks his head out from the pillow, looking up to see Negan sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands. He rubs them down his cheeks, scratching lightly at the stubble with blunt nails.

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Sorry about tonight. I kinda lied about that walker. There were three or four and I guess I was still stressed out from the fight. I just... I’m not like that. Normally. I’ll be fucking honest with you; this trip scares me. I haven’t left Virginia in years, let alone been gone for days at a time. I left the Sanctuary in good hands but you know, hell, it’s tough leaving people behind when they depend on you. I’m doing this for them, so I don’t have to risk their lives more than they already do.   
“If this trip turns out to be a waste of time... well, I’ll be fucking pissed. But if it’s not, if there’s some untapped treasure lying just a few miles from our borders, it could change our lives. I’ve got to take that risk, you know.”

  
“I do. I’ve done that. Just before we got to Alexandria, my people got caught in a storm. I went ahead, tried to find somewhere we could sit it out. I found this barn eventually, saved everybody's lives.”

  
“That’s some brave shit.”

  
“Yeah, this is brave too. I wouldn’t have gone with one other person, though. But we can’t risk taking more. I get it. I do, Negan. Whatever shit is waiting for us, we'll handle it.”

  
“Not to ruin the moment, but that is the most you’ve spoken to me since I met you. But thanks. I kinda needed to hear that.”

  
“You're welcome. Maybe you can lay off being a dick for the rest of this trip.” Daryl knows he’s tiptoeing on a thin line. It’s hard not to snark back at Negan but judging from the disbelieving huff and soft laugh that follows it, he isn’t losing his head tonight.

  
“Jesus, Daryl. Guess I deserve that one so I’ll let you get away with it.

  
“Thanks.”

  
“Good night, Daryl.”

  
“Night, Negan.”

  
They fall into silence again, this time far more comfortable than the last and Daryl finds himself falling asleep a lot quicker. No walkers bother them in the night, and Daryl doesn’t grip his knife. It stays strapped to his thigh where Negan put it.


	3. Chapter 3

The landscape drifting by becomes more and more untamed. Rolling hills consume the sky and thick forests have reclaimed most of the land. Daryl stares at it with a sense of wonder, pondering what it could have looked like before the dead started walking.

  
He’d never left Georgia, never went further than the state borders because something always got in the way and stopped him. His brother was arrested again and needed bail, his father was planning a hunting trip or needed Daryl to fetch him something unimportant. There was always a problem. Now, despite the wrecked world he finds himself in, it’s freeing to see more.

 

He loses himself in the spectacular view. So much so that he nearly jumps out of his skin when Negan exclaims loudly and follows his outburst with a string of curses.

  
“What’s wrong?”

  
“We need fuel. Shit, I thought I’d brought enough.”

  
“How much we got left?”

  
“Needle's about to hit empty.”

  
“We passed a resort a couple miles away. Just head back there.”

  
Negan sighs. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  
He turns the RV back around, eyes drifting to either sides of the road to peer into the treeline. Maybe there are nearer places to hit, or abandoned cars. They make it another mile before the engine starts spluttering and he has to pull over.

  
Negan’s hands wrap around the steering wheel, squeezing the leather tightly. He smacks at it before shooting up out of his seat and grabbing their supplies and shouldering them.

  
“Let's go,” he commands with a biting tone.

Daryl follows him out, crossbow slung across his torso and a spare bag in hand. At least Negan isn’t planning on leaving their stuff in the RV. It doesn’t matter if someone tries to steal the vehicle, they won’t get anywhere, but the supplies matter.

  
“Move it, Daryl.”

  
The hunter gets that Negan is pissed, but he is literally right behind him. He throws a glare at the back of Negan’s head. Together they walk the last mile to the resort.

 

 

The entrance to the resort is framed by a large arch, overgrown with ivy. ‘ _ **Daisy Pass Spa and hotel**_ ’ is plastered in a swirling, golden font that screams overpriced and snobby. Negan snorts when he looks up at it. At least he feels the same.

  
They carry on down a gravel trail that leads to a secluded clearing in the forest. Large cabins circle the open space, a water basin planted in the middle amongst wild flowers and weeds. An even bigger building stands out in the back, the wood painted white and blue. That must be the hotel.

  
“Wanna split up?” Negan asks as he stops and observes the five buildings with disdain.

He stomped angrily most of the way, waves of unpleasantness flowing off him like a torrent of- well, pissiness. It would be amusing if Negan wasn’t so fucking annoying most of the time and if Daryl didn’t hate his guts.

  
“Yeah.”

  
And then they set off, both heading to the furthest cabins to later meet in the middle and tackle the hotel together.

 

 

Negan stands by the door, watching Daryl disappear into his cabin without a word once he’s swapped his bag for his crossbow. He stays in the shade of the building a minute longer, allowing his mind to calm and focus. His anger won’t help if there’s a walker or two inside or, even shittier, people.

  
He raises Lucille, tapping her against the door to draw any monsters out. The door rattles under a heavy force slamming into it. Bingo.

  
His hand reaches for his knife instead and with a quick rush of motions, he opens the door and slides the blade into the walker's skull before it even knows what’s going on. It slumps into the gap, pushing Negan back until he has no choice but to let the door fly open. The walker falls flat on its face, and Negan laughs dryly before stepping unceremoniously over it and into the cabin.

  
Daylight casts long shadows into the reception area. A white desk takes up the centre of the room, whilst long, navy couches cover the back wall. They’re low to the ground, covered in a soft fabric coated in dust. Tall Ficus trees fill out the corners and out of curiosity, he touches the leaves. Plastic.

  
Negan moves on to the left side of the room, clearing the walk in closet from its snappy, undead resident. The shelves are lined with towels, robes and all sorts of crap Negan couldn’t care less about. He moves on to the changing rooms adjacent, finding nothing more than clothes and a single shoe.

Deeming it useless, the Savior leaves and moves on to the next cabin. Inside are small rooms, each decked out with massage tables and the same shit he found in the last place. In one of the closets he finds a jacket with a carton of cigarettes still sealed and a lighter. He shoves it into his pocket. Maybe Dwight will want them.

  
The third building proves a small challenge. Three walkers patrol the sauna, one so fugly it probably stewed in that water until now. He takes them down easily enough with Lucille, watching her through the air until she connects with bone. Panting a little, he searches around. Doubt sinks in when he realises this building is also a waste of time.

This place is not only a shithole, but a useless shithole.

  
By the time he emerges from the cabin, Daryl is waiting outside. The hunter is perched on the edge of the pond, a cigarette hanging between his lips and relaxed expression on his tired face. Once he spots Negan, he tenses up and that blissed out look disappears. Negan tries not to think too much about that.

  
“Find anything?” He asks as he sits down on the ground. Daryl’s knees are at eye level and Negan notices a loose thread sticking out of the stitching on his dirty jeans.

  
“Nah. Found a couple of these.” He holds the cigarette between two fingers before sticking it back and inhaling deeply. “Want the other one?”

  
“Fuck it. Sure. This place is fucking empty.”

  
Daryl digs through the pockets of his winged vest and pulls it out, handing it over without a word. Negan leans closer and lets Daryl light the crumpled stick between his lips. The hunter’s eyes linger on his stretched throat a little too long but Negan doesn’t mind. He settles down, kicking his legs out and crossing his ankles. Daryl stays quiet when Negan goes to rest his head against his thigh despite the rough material of his knife holster.

 

  
After they finish their smoke and stub out on the dirt, Negan leads the way to the hotel. It’s close by, half hidden by the greenery.

  
A rustle in the bushes along the path startles them both and the men ready their weapons for a fight. Both are pleasantly shocked when a young buck wanders out, horns growing into magnificent antlers and a calmness in its large eyes.   
The animal stares at them for a moment, long enough for Daryl to flick the safety off. Hearing the click, the buck sprints away back into the bushes.

  
“Dammit.” Daryl lowers his weapon and resets the safety.

  
“It’s not like we could’ve taken it back.”

  
“I know. Just sucks I can’t bring it home.”

  
“On our way back, maybe.”

Negan’s sympathising tone only pisses Daryl off. He shoves past, more determined to find something for his people he can take back.

 

The interior of the hotel is trashed, the rooms abandoned quickly with the guests' belongings left inside closets and suitcases. Sealed away from the elements and broken windows, some of the rooms have been kept in pristine condition.   
Toiletries are shoved into Daryl’s bag as long as they are still sealed and usable. In one of the many suitcases, he finds children's clothes and toys. Some perfect for Judy's age. He smiles to himself, already picturing her smiling face and clapping hands at the mention of gifts.

  
When he reunites with Negan, his mood has considerably brightened. He spots the Savior exiting the kitchen and Negan breaks into a grin at the sight of the hunter.

  
“You would not believe how much shit is in there. I’m gonna need you to carry some.”

The walk in fridge stinks of rotten food. Some so far gone that it’s unrecognizable, but amongst the crates of tomatoes and kale are boxes of cereal and cans upon cans. From fruits to canned meat, there is enough to feed the entirety of Alexandria without rationing for a couple of weeks.

  
Daryl leans his crossbow against the doorframe and a small, almost inaudible chuckle escapes him. So much for the resort being a waste of time.

  
Together it takes them over an hour to raid the fridge, and another to clear out the rest of the kitchen. By the time everything has been packed away, dusk has fallen and it’s too dark to make it back to the RV with so many bags.

  
“We should hide one away, for when we come back. Just in case shit goes tits up and we lose some of our supplies,” Negan suggests as he zips up the final bag and stands proudly beside their haul with his hands on his hips and an infectious, charming grin plastered on.

  
“Where d'you wanna hide it?”

  
“One of the rooms, maybe? We’re shacking up there tonight anyways. Then we'll bring the rest down to the RV tomorrow morning.”

  
“We still gotta find gas.”

  
“Shit, yeah. We still haven’t cleared the whole place. Maybe there’s a garage or something. For now, though, gimme a hand lugging all this shit into a decent room.”

 

They end picking one on the ground floor. Not only because it’s easier to carry the heavy bags but also because the room has a good view of the entrance outside and anyone coming up along the path will be seen immediately.

  
Daryl dumps the last bag by the door, groaning as the weight falls from his shoulders. He flexes his arm and rubs the tense muscles.

  
“You know what?” Negan begins as he pulls the thick curtains together and peeks outside through a gap. Daryl doesn’t speak but he wasn't going to wait for an answer anyways.

“We fucking did good today. I know we’ve still gotta get some fuel but this-“ He gestures at the five bulging bags. “This is just fucking amazing. Now I’m gonna find some candles from the dining room and we can have ourselves a romantic evening.”

  
Negan leaves, laughing at the doubtful eyebrow raised at his last comment. Daryl watches him saunter off into the lobby before kicking off his boots and throwing himself onto the bed. It bounces ridiculously under his weight but the mattress is perfect and firm, unlike the usual crappy bed he sleeps on back home or the damn booth in the RV.

  
Without his brain’s permission, he begins to drift off. The softness of the bed and the safe, warm nest he’s made makes it impossible to resist the exhaustion fighting him in his limbs and heart. Some part of him becomes aware of the footsteps nearing his room and the creaking of hinges but he ignores them.

There’s no one here but Negan.   
As the thought oddly comforts him, the bed dips opposite Daryl.

  
“Don’t you want to get under the sheets?” The Savior’s voice rumbles like rolling thunder in the quietness of the hotel, and subconsciously Daryl’s mind relaxes at the familiar low tone.

  
The hunter nods slowly, his head bobbing with a hum. He feels the sheets being pulled from underneath him and the sudden lack of heat makes him grumble. Negan laughs quietly, uncharacteristically mindful of Daryl's limbo state. The sheets are soon patted down over him, the blanket up to his shoulders. Daryl rolls over to shove his face into the pillow, burrowing himself into a roll.

  
“S’alright... not like I need the blanket too.”

  
Daryl nods with a hum, refusing to move now that he’s set for the night. Negan sighs and stretches out next to him, untying his boots before dumping them beside the bed with a thump.

  
He glances over at Daryl. He hasn’t expected the hunter to drop his guard so openly but the day must have taken it’s toll on him. He has no clue what he went up against in those cabins, maybe it’s the whole trip which has him rattled so much. Either way, Negan is too tired to start contemplating the quiet man.

  
He shuffles down to rest his head on the plush pillow and turns to face Daryl. Only the hunter's hair and forehead is visible and Negan can’t help but smile at the rather cute display.

For a moment, he wonders whether Daryl would be opposed to cuddling but then Negan remembers he can do anything and the man won’t fight back. It’s a crappy way of thinking, he knows that, but Negan lives for PDA. So he slips an arm around the hunter’s shoulders and pulls himself closer.

  
In his sleepy state, Daryl welcomes the warmth and shuffles towards it. He doesn’t push away the arm slumped on him and he lets Negan get away with the touch. He hates admitting to himself that he enjoys it. It’s not like people are lining up to hug Daryl so whatever contact he can get, he’ll take it even from his enemy. Disgust nags at his mind; clawing, biting, fighting at the idea of cosying up to the leader of the Saviors.

But for now, he’s okay with pressing up against the warm, firm chest and inhaling the scent of detergent, cigarette smoke and oak body wash. He's especially okay with the hand stroking his back and hip. He can always hate himself for it in the morning and remember exactly why he hates Negan


	4. Chapter 4

A thin line of sunlight escapes from the sides of the windows, between the edge of the thick, brocade curtains and the panelled walls, and casts itself across the bed and directly in Daryl's eyes.

He moans a complaint, twisting away from the intrusion and shoves his head further into the pillows. What he hits isn’t the stripy cushion but a thick arm blocking his access.

  
Awareness seeps into his brain and Daryl sighs at the understanding he won’t be getting back to sleep. So he opens his eyes and winces at the light.

  
Negan is asleep, laying on his side with one arm extended in Daryl’s personal space and looking utterly dead to the world minus his shallow breathing. His hair is mussed at strange angles.

  
Daryl sighs again. He vaguely remembers falling asleep with Negan beside him but that’s all. When did he get so close? Was that just a natural thing he did in his sleep, to get closer to people? It’s likely for warmth. Maybe reassurance. Either way, Daryl doesn’t care to lie around any longer. They’ve got shit to do and sleeping in on a sunny morning is not one of their priorities. That and he might get too tempted to stab Negan. It’s not like his guard is up. Daryl has to remind himself why he can’t stab Negan.

  
He peels away the blankets and stands up. Behind him, Negan crawls into the space he was just occupying. Daryl takes a look at all the bags and checks the window for any trace someone might have come past. The trail is as quiet as the previous day and everything looks untouched.

Finding the room and Negan too much to bear, Daryl grabs his crossbow and heads down to the lobby.

 

The place must have cost an absolute fortune to rent out. The decor is minimal, relying on glass and white-washed wood to give off a calming vibe. There are large, framed photographs of nearby lakes and hotspots along the walls. It reminds Daryl too much of that country club.

 

  
He heads through the employee area until he reaches an exit door and the cool morning breeze greets him. A stumbling walker also comes to say hello. He deals with it in a heartbeat, unbothered by the ruckus and stench the creature carried with it.

The parking lot is set behind the hotel, enclosed by a high stone wall and a heavy security gate. It doesn’t matter that it’s locked, he only needs fuel. An hour or so later, the jerry can he found is filled up and sloshing with enough fuel to last them a good while.

  
The hot sun is starting to beat down on him with a fiery passion. His shirt clings to his chest uncomfortably, damp and sticky and probably reeking. He keeps it on.

  
Once inside again, he sighs at the coolness of the building and treks his way back through long corridors until he’s back in the room he slept in. Unsurprisingly, Negan is still there.

  
Daryl rests the canister by the bags and contemplates how best to wake the Savior. Should he throw something at him? Yell until he wakes? Maybe even just leave him here and head down to the RV. It would certainly scare the man, at the very least confuse the fuck out of him, and it would be funny to watch him search around hopelessly for Daryl.

  
Sadly, all those ideas would land him in trouble. He can’t tempt and fight back like Rick. He isn’t in a position of power, nor is he a match for Negan. Rick has always been the one to fight against other leaders and he’s always won. Negan will fall just like the others, it’s only a matter of time.

 

He sits down on the plush bed, dipping the mattress lightly. He’s perched on the very edge, ready to jump up with his shaky nerves reminding him how bad of an idea this whole pacifist shit is when he could just end Negan’s life and save the day.

  
His hand falls on Negan's shoulder and shakes him lightly. The man mumbles incoherently as he tries to move away from the touch.

  
“Come on, man. Get up,” Daryl encourages softly. He shakes Negan again, harder this time, and the Savior cracks one eye open with another grumble.

  
“Go ‘way.”

  
“We gotta go,” he insists with one last shake before sighing and lifting himself up from the bed. “Lazy fuck. I will pour water on your damn head if you don’t get up.”

  
“You wouldn’t waste it,” Negan argues childishly even as he throws the blanket to the side and sits up. His eyes fall on the canister and then to the windows where it’s likely nearing eleven, if not noon. “You got the fuel?”

  
“Yeah, bunch of cars out back. You gonna get your shit together? Or do I have to carry all this back myself?”

  
“Jesus, you’re fucking cranky. You ever hear of chilling the fuck out?”

  
“You ever hear you’re one lazy fuck with a shitty attitude?” Daryl bites back before he can stop himself. He waits for a split second, eyeing up Negan and readying himself for a reprimand or a fistfight. The bastard just laughs. It sounds genuine, like Daryl just told the world’s funniest joke.

  
“Damn, you are really packing in those punches. What the fuck did I do to piss you off so much?”

  
“Right now? Or you want examples since we met? Cause that’s a long list, man.”

  
“Yeah, alright. Fair enough. So are we good to go?” Negan points at the fuel as he gets up.

He shoves on his boots and re-loops his belt, his jacket thrown on him with a flourish.

  
“Yeah, we're good. You ain’t gonna need that,” Daryl nods towards the leather jacket.

  
“It looks fucking badass and I have got enough shit to carry as it is. Don’t you worry so much about me, babe.” Negan winks and laughs at the exasperated sigh he earns. “We wanted to hide one of these, didn’t we?”

  
“One of the cars. Shove it in the trunk. Doubt anybody would touch ‘em.”

  
“Lead the way, Dee.” Negan grabs the nearest bag, weighing it’s contents, before following Daryl through the employee section and out into the carpark.

 

When they’re finally back on the road, the trees rushing past in a blur and the breeze blasting cool air through the open windows, Negan breaks the silence that has overtaken them since they left the hotel.

  
“You did good back there.”

  
Daryl flicks him a sidelong glance, shaking his head to dislodge some of the hair in his face. He grumbles a timid ‘thanks' and stares back out the window.

  
“How far are we?”

  
“We'll be crossing the border soon. You’ll see the sign.”

  
“Took so damn long to reach it.”

  
“I know but I64 is ruined and I77 is too far from us. It’s just so much fucking easier like this. Plus we get more time to get to know each other!”

  
Negan smiles brightly, balancing his attention between the road and Daryl.

  
“Don’t you wanna ask me anything? Shit, we are stuck here together. Come on, I know you’re curious about little old me.”

  
“A'ight. How d'ya get to be such an asshole?”

  
“Whoa. Rude. If you are talking about my natural leadership skills and charismatic, dazzling fucking personality, I have always been like this.”

  
“I feel bad for your parents...”

  
Negan laughs. “Nah, no way. I was a good kid, just not at school. There, I was a right little shit.”

  
“You bullied people."

  
“Sometimes,” Negan ponders, a frown deepening. “I wasn’t one of the jocks, I kept to myself. People who pissed me off got what they deserved. What about you? What was mean, little Daryl like?”

  
It takes Daryl a moment to remember. He didn’t go to school for very long. With Merle in and out of prison, and dad constantly pulling shit with the cops, there wasn’t time or enough money for him to go to college. Or even think about it. If he wasn’t flunking, his dad gave him plenty of reasons not to show up.

  
“Nobody paid much attention to me. I just got shit done and barely graduated.”

  
“Were you just shit at school or-?”

  
“I wasn’t there a lot. Had family-“ Daryl stops himself from revealing way too much about things that went on in the Dixon household. He doesn’t need to stir those memories up. “Family problems.”

  
Negan throws him a strange look. He’s not convinced. He knows there’s more to Daryl's past than just ‘family problems' and for a moment, it feels like he’s going to push the subject and demand to know more; like he wants peel apart the hunter's mind and figure out what makes him tick. Daryl waits for the prodding questions. What kind of problems? Were you beaten as a kid? Was your shitty past the reason you’re so fucked up? Is this why you can’t relax around people and why you’re such a fucking eager bitch for touch?  
Daryl keeps waiting. The questions never come.

  
He glances over to the Savior and finds Negan focused on the road like they'd never started this conversation. Gratefulness grows from that quiet understanding, like Negan knows it’s an open wound that Daryl has never quite healed. He hadn't expected that. Not for Negan of all people.

 

A giant green sign comes into view: _**Welcome to West Virginia, wild and wonderful.**_

  
When they finally pull over, just on the outskirts of a small town, the sun is just sinking behind the rolling hills. Negan insists on clearing the nearest houses.

  
The neighbourhood they pick out is idyllic and right out of a postcard. The modern bungalows are lined up along a cul-de-sac, each with a garage and decent front and back yards. The road is devoid of vehicles and a small patch of grass sits in the middle, a large oak sprouting proudly from it and a couple of benches placed in its shade.

They tackle the first house as a team, taking down a handful of biters trapped inside the reinforced home. The door is nailed shut from the outside so Daryl smashes up a window and climbs inside. The interior is nice, simple.

  
The kitchen provides a few cans of fruit and some bottles of water. Negan grabs a fine whiskey from the upstairs office, and then they hit up the next place.

 

  
By the time they clear the area, the sky resembles the colour of nightshade and thick clouds drag lazily with the threat of rain on the horizon. Their bags, stolen from the previous residents, are full of water and fruits. This trip is turning out to be very fulfilling.

  
“Those clouds look like they’re going to be a problem. We should hole up in one of these houses,” Negan comments as he wipes his hands on his jeans and glances up at the sky.   
Daryl emerges from the RV once the bags are safely stored inside with the others. He looks up and nods.

  
“We can park it in the garage of that one,” he points to one house at the very end of the bend. The roof of the garage is high enough for it. “You drive, I’ll help you get it in.”

  
“Sounds good. I’ll start her up.”

  
Negan climbs back on, watching from the driver's seat as Daryl jogs to the house and heads inside to unlock the door. The plastic pulls to the side on a curving rail. He starts the engine and rolls down slowly into the tight space. The roof doesn’t make a horrid screech of scraping metal so he knows it fits fine.

  
Daryl pats the side of the vehicle and Negan cuts the engine. He climbs out just in time to give the hunter a hand with pulling the door shut again. He latches the lock with a grin.

  
“Sweet, another night in a proper bed. I’ll grab us some food and that whiskey. Get inside and chill or something.”

Daryl follows his instructions and finds a comfortable spot on the couch. This house is less stuck up than the others. It actually looks like a home rather than those glass and metal, minimalistic show rooms in the neighbourhood.

  
Along the mantel are empty frames, the photos taken out by the owners in a rush. Odds and ends fill the shelves; random junk that used to mean something long ago.   
He fiddles around with the emergency lantern he’d picked up in the garage. The room fills with a white glow, illuminating every corner as he places it on the coffee table.

  
He gets up to pull the shutters closed and then draws the curtains over them, reducing the risk of someone seeing the light of the lantern. Behind him, Negan prowls inside and dumps the armful of food and supplies onto the kitchen table with a multitude of thuds and clanks.

  
“This is a pretty decent set-up,” Negan comments as he re-enters the living room with a playful smile tugging up a corner of his lips. The scruff on his face is turning into a rather handsome beard, which Daryl promptly ignores as the thought arises.

  
“Yeah. Thank shit for posh pricks.”

  
“Ha. Amen to that, brother. Now, I’m gonna fix us up some grub. I take it you want soup again?” Daryl nods, the barest of smiles cracking up. “Do you actually like that shit?”

  
“Not really. Nobody back home likes it, though, so I’d rather just eat it myself than waste something else.”

  
“Jesus, that’s... that's pretty fucking nice of you. But we’ve found so much stuff, you can eat something better. Go on, treat yourself.”

  
Daryl shakes his head. He’ll eat what other people don’t want and that's enough for him. Negan sighs but reluctantly heads back into the kitchen to warm up some cans. Whoever used to live here was a camping fanatic and their hotplate is going to come in handy. Along with their tent, sleeping bag and survival kit. It’s a good thing it got left behind.

Food is served quickly and eaten in silence in the bright light of the lantern. Negan leaves the dishes out on the kitchen counter, ready to be picked up in the morning and cleaned with the water in the RV's reservoir. It’s Daryl’s unmentioned job. Negan cooks, he cleans. It’s almost a nice arrangement, but Daryl can still see how it shoves him into a corner where Negan comes out on top.

  
“So, there’s only one bed...” Negan trails off, observing Daryl with content and calmness in his eyes.

  
“There’s also a couch,” the hunter counters as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

  
“Yes,” Negan says slowly, measuring his words carefully as though Daryl's opinion of him is something he values highly. “I don’t mind sharing. Actually I liked our little arrangement last night. I slept better than normal. But, it is entirely your choice. We can share, or I’ll take the couch.”

  
“You’d sleep on the couch?”

  
“Yeah, well, you’re a lot fucking more well behaved than I’d imagined. This is a treat, I guess. Up to you. So what’s it going to be?”

  
Daryl doesn’t reply. He needs time to think, to try and work out what it is he wants. On one hand, the prospect of cuddling up and falling into bed with someone is something he’s always enjoyed greatly.   
Yet, on the other hand, this is Negan. The unpredictable, violent and crazy man who's taken a bat to Daryl's life and dragged him and his people through the mud.   
What would Rick think of him if he consented to this? He’d never speak to him again, watching him with judgement and anger. Daryl couldn’t handle that. Rick isn’t here, though, he wouldn’t know unless Negan tells him and Daryl doubts something like that would happen. Even then, Daryl could deny it.

  
“Daryl? You still with me, buddy?” Negan’s voice breaks through the awkward silence.

  
Daryl becomes rapidly aware of the warm hand on his bare arm, resting just above his wrist. Negan's thumb drags over the sharp bone and he stays there even when Daryl's eyes shoot up to his own wildly. He can feel the hunter tensing under his hand so he strokes his wrist comfortingly. Long ago, he used to do this to Lucille and it would calm her down in an instant. By the way Daryl's shoulders slump and his eyes lose that startled fear, it’s working on him too.

  
“You okay? You kinda spaced out.”

  
“’M fine. I wanna- we can share.”

  
Negan observes Daryl with doubt, probably expecting it to be a joke, but the hunter reinforces his agreement with a firm nod even though he casts his eyes on the table.

  
“Okay. Come on then, we’ve got a long fucking day ahead of us.”

  
Negan's hand lifts and he almost grabs Daryl's wrist again to pull him towards the room. He knows that would only frighten the younger man so he walks ahead and waits on the bed for him. Behind him, Daryl carries the lantern and sets it down on the bedside table. It flickers as it impacts with the wood a bit too harshly.

Negan is already lying on top of the blankets, boots shoved by the wall and his belt thrown with it. He left his jacket in the RV when he realises Daryl was right and it was too hot to wear.

  
Daryl glances at the sight and gulps. This is different from last night. He was dead tired, uncaring about whether Negan slept next to him or not. But he is willing going to do this, that’s the problem.

  
“I don’t get why people over-think so goddamn much.” Negan interrupts his thoughts. “If you want something, stop fucking second-guessing yourself and just do it. Seriously, Daryl, stop fucking standing there like you’re part of the furniture. Get in the bed.”

  
“It ain’t that fucking easy!” Daryl yells, snapping at the simpleness of his words.

As if it’s really that simple to just lie in bed with the man who killed two of your friends and pretend like it’s all okay.

  
“Sure it is.”

Negan stands abruptly and rounds the bed in a hurry. His hands clasps Daryl's shoulders and shove him forcefully to the bed. When the hunter's legs hit the metal frame, Negan pushes him down and gestures wildly at just how simple that was.

“Not that hard, wasn’t it? Now take your boots off and get some damn rest. I’m not gonna wait all night for you to fucking decide where the fuck you wanna rest your pretty head.”

  
Negan marches back to his side, entirely ignoring the perplexed wonder in Daryl's eyes. He climbs under the sheets, rolls over to present his back and that’s that. With an uncertain, shaky hand, Daryl switches the light off and sends the room in pure darkness.

  
He pulls up the blanket and crawls underneath it, still surprised at Negan's intervention. The Savior is silent, his breathing calm but not as spaced apart as when he is asleep.

  
“Why d'ya do that?” Daryl asks after a few awkward minutes. He feels like Negan is waiting for him to do something.

  
“Cause you’re too fucking slow. I want to sleep.”

  
“It ain’t that. You would've just kicked me out if you just wanted to sleep. Why d'ya want me here? Why the fuck did you choose me for this fucking trip?”

  
“I told you why. I wanna get to know you.”

  
“I ain’t nothing special.”

  
Negan shuffles around to face him. Even in the dark, Daryl can feel his piercing, judging eyes on him.

  
“You are special. How could you think otherwise?”

  
The words are spoken with such a genuine honesty Daryl struggles to find a response. He can feel something burning inside him, that big ball of anger and fear and mistrust and self-hate that lives in his chest every day since the moment he could understand his father's angry shouts and his mother's disappointment.

  
“Look, I can guess you had a pretty shit life. I grew up around kids like you. Hell, I taught kids like you! The ones that are always quiet and shy and you think it’s just social anxiety until you tap their shoulder and they look at you like you kicked their fucking dog. I know, okay. You don’t have to tell me your goddamn story. But you need to know that that shit is over, you can move on and do what you want. And shit, you are goddamn special, Daryl.”

  
Negan sighs and extends a hand to stroke Daryl’s arm. His fingers bump his elbow but he eases the sudden poke with a warm circling rub, his thumb tracing the muscles with a slight pang of jealousy. He’s lost most of the weight and muscle he gained from teaching sports for years.

  
“I get what you’re saying, but I just can’t... I can’t believe shit like that.”

  
“Tough shit, baby. I’m gonna keep saying till you believe it.”

  
“Why?”

  
“Cause I’m a fucking Savior. I’m here to help people.”

Daryl knows he’s smirking. He feel it crawling under his skin. The hunter elbows him sharply in the chest and Negan curses in pain.

“Motherfucker... Here I am, tryna cheer your ass up and you fucking hit me.”

  
“You’re full'a shit, Negan.”

  
“Yeah, I know. But I stand by what I said. You’re a damn good guy, Daryl. You wanna share why you hesitates so much?”

  
“It’s wrong. I shouldn’t be here. You should be dead and I shouldn’t be in your fucking bed.”

  
“Numero uno: this is not my bed. My bed is fucking comfy as shit. The pillows are made of fucking angel feathers. You ever land your ass in my bed and I will make it worth your time. Numero dos: you are here because I chose you over Rick the Prick. I want you here so you are here. And tres, I am not going to die because of your people. That shit is just not going to fly so you can forget all those little plots and assassinations you have in mind.”

  
“You’re wrong. You won’t keep us under your boot for long. We'll win. You’ll see.”

  
“I see that I’m not getting the message through to you so I’m just gonna drop that part of our conversation. Are you sure this isn’t about getting into bed with a guy?”

  
“Nah, you ain’t the first I’ve shared with.”

  
“I fucking knew you and Rick had something going on!”

  
“What? No. We’ve never-“ Daryl pauses before he can stumble over any more words. Why the fuck did Negan think that? “I’ve shared a bed with him. With tons of people. How the fuck do you think we kept warm during the winter?”

  
“Oh, you meant that literally. My bad. So, you’re cool with sleeping next to a dude?”

  
“Well, yeah. I ain’t gonna be damn picky about it. I don’t fucking care you’re a guy.”

  
“Shit, well there goes my theory.”

  
Daryl knows he doesn’t want to prod the question. He’s sure it will open up a nasty can of worms. Curiosity wins.

  
“What theory?”

  
“That you’re some deep-South closeted fag.”

Daryl squirms and looks down at his lap. He knows Negan can’t see the flush on his cheeks or his wringing hands clutching at the blanket. He never should have asked.

“I’m right on the money, aren’t I?”

  
The room becomes too claustrophobic with Negan's accusation. Daryl becomes hyper-aware of the heavy sheets crushing him down, suffocating him in the trapped heat, and the proximity of Negan's body. It’s too much.  
Daryl yanks off the sheets and bolts out of the room before he knows his legs are moving. He remembers the layout of the house well and guides himself with the wall until he reaches the front door and wrenches it open to get some fresh air.

 

 

The clouds above are thick and grey with rain. The air prickle with hot energy and an arc of stunning lightening cracks across the dark sky, following by a hair-raising boom that Daryl feels in his soul. The electric sensation passes through him but the pressure of the very air pushes down on him in a way that calms his racing heart.

  
Another bolt fills the world above him, consuming the sky with a scatter of light that highlights the roofs of the neighbourhood. The light allows him to see a lone walker stumbling near the main road that leads into the cul-de-sac.

  
He looks about and finds a bench hanging from the porch he stands under. It sways gently on rusted chains in the breeze, creaking softly as Daryl collapses on it with his face in his hands.

  
Why the fuck did he ask Negan? He should have known he'd ask something Daryl wouldn’t like. Their conversation was bordering on that topic for a while, dancing around the subject when Daryl knew he wouldn’t be comfortable answer such things. He’s never stopped to question himself. There wasn’t time before and there certainly isn’t now. Even if he felt that way about men, it’s not like any of them would ever care for him.

  
But knowing now what Negan thinks of him and how abrasive his reaction and statement was, Daryl finds himself more than ever desperate to get away from him. The hunter gets enough looks from his own group, he doesn’t need someone else looking at him like he’s a piece of redneck trash.

  
The thunder booms again and with it comes a sudden flood of rain. It drops like someone flicks a switch. The noise is deafening, the water smacking the roof of the bungalow aggressively as though nature is showing its opinion to Daryl in the form of rainwater. The heat slowly cools and the hunter finds himself shivering.

The front door opens and Negan pokes his head out, eyes falling on Daryl almost immediately.

  
“I thought I’d let you cool off before tracking you down. I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

  
“Where the fuck else would I go?”

  
“I know, but I can’t always control my thoughts. Look, about what I said. I know I sounded like a dick. My words could’ve been chosen more carefully but I didn’t think you’d take offence.”

  
Daryl refuses to meet his eyes as Negan leaves the safety of the house and stands on the porch beside the bench. He doesn’t dare sit down.

  
“You just had to use that word, didn’t ya?”

  
“What? Fag?” Negan observes how Daryl flinches and he bites his lip with guilt. “Sorry, I didn’t think it would offend you.”

  
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

  
“No, I called my friends that all the time in college. They did the same. It was harmless.”  
Daryl glances up at him, a threat lying behind his glare.

  
“It ain’t fucking harmless, you jackass. What the fuck did I do to get stuck with some homophobic bastard for?” Daryl snarls at the sky, wishing whatever is up there is listening on this bullshit. He flicks his eyes back to Negan and finds him grinning.

  
“Seriously? Is this shit funny to ya?”

  
“Yeah, kinda.” Negan sits down on the bench despite the deathly glare. “I’m not a homophobe, dumbass. Jesus Christ, I like fucking guys, Daryl! I’m not giving you shit for enjoying some fine dick. I’m just calling it how I see it. My gaydar's been going off nonstop since we met.”

  
“Your what?”

  
“Uh, nevermind. Look, we cool or what?”

  
Daryl stares at him blankly. That’s... really not what he’d expected.

  
“Yeah, I guess.”

  
“Good, now get your ass in bed or I swear to God, I will fucking drag you in myself.” Daryl nods and stands.

  
Just as Negan’s hand falls on the door handle, an arc of lightening strikes the oak tree and the top branches burst into flames. The fire reflects in their wonder-filled eyes. Both men stop to admire the sight before the season extinguishes the fire and thick plumes of smoke rise from the tree and fade into the night sky.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning!

Negan leads him back inside and follows the light from the bedroom. He crawls onto his side with one arm stretched out on Daryl’s pillow.

  
“Move, Negan,” the hunter grumbles as he sits down and prepares to resettle under the blanket.

  
“Don’t you wanna cuddle?”

  
“No. What the fuck is your problem, Negan?”

  
The Savior shrugs. “I fucking know what it’s like; feeling like you're all alone and nobody wants to give you the time of day, but you’re still scared to just ask for it and find out if they’re willing to help.”

  
“You’re just talking outta your ass. You ain’t scared of shit.”

  
Negan laughs softly and heartedly, and sits up against the backboard with a pillow propped up to support his back.

  
“’Course I am. I’m scared for my people and how I can keep Sanctuary going once we all run out of supplies. I’m scared some dumbass named Rick Grimes is going to fuck everything up and ruin my system because he thinks he’s king.”

  
“That’s just typical leader shit. Rick worries like that all the time. I mean, being scared shitless. Like everything’s gonna collapse if you do something wrong.”

  
“What are you talking about exactly?”

  
Daryl gestures between them vaguely before dropping his hands in his lap and refusing to look up from the sheets pooled in the gap between his criss-crossed legs.

  
“This shit.”

  
“You’re not giving me a lot to go on here, Daryl. Okay, I’m gonna list off things that could be bothering you. Just stop me if I get it right.”

  
The hunter nods mutely and settles down more comfortably. He can’t look over at Negan. It’s not like he could ever guess it right. There’s so much shit Daryl has dealt with that still bothers him when he gets time alone to think.

  
“You’re... worried I’m gonna kill or hurt you? Okay, that’s a no. What about, you’re scared my guys are hurting your guys whilst you’re away? Still no. Thought that would be it, but I don’t want you to think that. I keep my word, Daryl. They’re safe.

“You are... You’re scared you’re enjoying this trip more than you’d thought.”

  
“Close,” Daryl mumbles. Negan is getting nearer to the truth. It’s just easier to guess rather than let Daryl explain his messed up thoughts and hope Negan can untangle them and make sense of him. He doesn’t even know why he finds Negan to find out. It will only end in embarrassment and pity.

  
“Is it to do with us sharing a bed? Do you like it?”

  
Daryl nods. Negan is surprisingly perceptive. Maybe he can figure Daryl out when Daryl can’t even manage that himself.

  
“Do you like spending time with me and you feel guilty for it? You think you’re doing something wrong by enjoying this. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  
“Yeah. You got it.”

  
“I’m flattered,” Negan jokes with a soft laugh. His hand pats Daryl’s shoulder and lingers there. “So you like me, huh?”

  
“Nah. I just like the attention. Don’t get much.”

  
“Well, that’s a fucking shame. You’re goddamn gorgeous.”

  
“Shuddup. I ain’t nothing to gawk at.”

  
“Sure you are. Want me to fucking prove it?” Negan leans forward over Daryl, his confident smirk in place and his eyes darkened with rising lust.

  
“I don’t... I-, Negan...” Daryl stops before he can continue to ramble on without making sense. It doesn’t deter Negan at all. If anything, that shark grin grows wider.

  
“S'okay to be shy, darlin'.”

  
“I ain’t fucking shy.”

  
“I don’t believe that for one second,” Negan teases, moving closer until he can throw a leg over Daryl's and straddle him.

  
The hunter's eyes shoot up at him, fear overtaking the sass for a split moment before he realises the dare Negan has thrown at him. Hesitantly he lifts his hands to place them on Negan's waist. A bunch of girls used to climb into his lap back when Merle had his little meth parties, sometimes Daryl would take up the offer of sex and the girls would grab his hands and put them where they wanted.   
At least Daryl knows how to do that. But Negan neither has a pussy or tits and he certainly isn’t wearing a tiny skirt. He can feel the man's length against his abdomen when Negan pushes forward to urge him on.

  
“Just what I fucking thought. Shy as a nun in a strip joint. You a fucking virgin as well? Nobody pop your cherry? Bet you're-"

  
Daryl crashes his lips against Negan's before he can finish his damn teasing. The Savior freezes in shock before his brain catches up and he kisses back just as rough and dirty as Daryl. There’s no finesse, just sheer anger and frustration translated into lust. It’s all teeth and pained groans but Daryl doesn’t want it to stop. It’s been so fucking long, he isn’t ready to let Negan go.

  
He grabs at his tee-shirt and pulls him closer, one hand travelling up his strong back to tug at Negan’s hair until the Savior gasps and hisses in pain against his lips and Daryl greedily swallows down the noise. When Negan starts to push at his chest, he lets the man come up for air.

  
Pulling back from Daryl, Negan observes him with heavy eyes and mussed hair. His lips are red and swollen and they both have flushed skin where their stubble rubbed roughly in the corner of the other's mouth and chin.

  
“Goddamn, that was fun.”

  
“You gonna keep talking or are you gonna kiss me?”

  
Negan raises a brow at Daryl's sudden demanding tone. He kinda likes it. “Baby, I wanna do everything to you right now.”

  
Daryl huffs a laugh and leans back up into another kiss, tugging at Negan's belt with a revived interest he thought was long gone. The Savior drags his fingers through his long hair, yanking him back to land kisses on the hunter's neck. He sucks on the tanned skin until dark red marks appear, showing off to the world who Daryl belongs to.

  
“Get off. Want you naked,” Daryl says in a rush, his accent deepening into a warm drawl.

Negan obliges, practically ripping off his shirt to throw it somewhere down at the bottom of the bed. He climbs off Daryl’s lap long enough to pull off his jeans and socks, leaving just simple black boxers on that barely contain his excitement.

  
Daryl hums appreciatively, reaching out to palm Negan through the thin fabric. He’s never done this before but he knows what he likes, so he applies his knowledge. His hand strokes slowly but with a heavy pressure along the underside, twisting his wrist at the head until Negan bucks into his hand desperately.

  
“Someone’s fucking eager,” Daryl comments with a smirk.

He tugs sharply and Negan gasps out in a mix of pain and arousal. His hips push further into the hunter's hand for more but Daryl lets him go, leaving Negan thrusting into the air with a pitiful whimper.

  
“Can’t fucking help it. Haven’t gotten laid in four days.”

  
“Boohoo. You’ve got me now and Imma take my time with ya. Oh and I’m not getting fucked in the ass.”

  
Negan pulls back away from Daryl, holding his shoulder to keep him back so he can look directly in his eyes. Daryl notices something akin to dismay.

  
“I’m a top.”

  
“So am I. I ain’t never fucked a guy before but I sure as Hell ain’t gonna let you inside me.”

  
“For fuck's sakes, Dee.”

  
“What? You ain’t gonna force me, are ya?”

  
“Fuck no, I’d never do that to anyone. That’s just fucking sick. I was just gonna ask if your mouth is available. Mine sure is.”

  
Daryl chuckles and nods. “A'ight, I’ll give it a try. You gonna let me fuck you?”

  
“Not tonight. Wanna suck each other's dicks?”

  
“You’ve sure got a way with words. Yeah, let’s do that. I’ll do you first.”

  
Negan tugs impatiently at the collar of Daryl's flannel. “This needs to come off.”

  
Daryl hesitates. No one has ever really seen his back and the past carved and whipped into it except his blood family. If he keeps his back to the bed, he can keep it a secret.   
Negan notes his slowness to pull off the shirt.

“Trust me, you’re not the only one with a rough past. It’s okay. You don’t have to take anything off if you don’t want to.”

  
“I do, just don’t say anything.”

  
“I won't,“ Negan promises with a gentle smile.

  
Daryl nods and unbuttoned his shirt with shaky fingers. Negan doesn’t interrupt to help, he lets Daryl take his time until the man shrugs off his shirt. He holds up a hand to stroke down Daryl’s chest and watches with wonder as the man shudders and closes his eyes. Without warning, he shoves harshly and sends Daryl bouncing on the bed for the second time that night. A grin splits across his face when he crawls over the hunter and pins him down with a kiss and a hand holding a wrist to the sheets.

  
Their chests collide and Daryl revels in the warmth emitting from the other man. His free hand teases up his ribs, tickling slightly before brushing his fingertips across one nipple. He tests Negan's interest by pinching and tugging on the nub until the man yelps and groans. He massages the pain away as an apology.

  
Negan pulls away from Daryl’s lips with a lazy smirk and trails kisses down his bare chest, licking and sucking at his nipples until Daryl is writhing underneath him making sweet noise. He stops when he reaches his belt and he unbuckles it hurriedly, pulling his jeans and boxers off in a rush. Daryl moans as his cock springs free and the cool air greets it.   
Negan wraps a strong, warm hand around his length and the hunter bucks into the touch. His tongue traces the thick vein, flicking at the top to gather the clear drops of precome. Daryl mumbles something in his arm.

  
“What was that?”

  
“I said hurry up,” Daryl breathes out shakily.

Negan chuckles and wraps his lips around the head, swirling his tongue and smiling throughout at Daryl's frustrated thrusts to get his cock further inside the warm, wet and inviting mouth. Negan obliges as Daryl pushes his hips up, laughing around the thick length when Daryl groans in surprise and pumps up to get more friction.

  
Negan swallows down what he can, wrapping his hand around the base. He can feel Daryl getting closer in the way that his moans break off into breathy pants of desperation and his legs constantly clamp around Negan’s shoulders. He has to pry them apart.

  
“Negan! I’m- Ahh,” Daryl cries as he spills in Negan's mouth with barely any warning. The Savior chokes as Daryl keeps his head pushed down as he thrusts up. Cum drips from his lips and into his beard as Negan pulls up.

  
Daryl groans at the sight and he wishes he had a camera to remember how debauched and filthy Negan looks. He really made good use of that eager hole.

  
“Not bad. You taste pretty fucking good, Dee.”

Negan leans in to kiss Daryl, letting the younger man taste himself on his lips. Daryl pulls a face and shakes his head.

“It’s not for everyone. My turn.”

  
He slumps to lie beside Daryl and pulls off his boxers in a rush. His cock sits heavy on his stomach, dripping wet and flushed a dark red. Daryl unconsciously licks his lips.

  
The hunter crawls down between the Savior’s thighs and settles there. Shyly, he sticks his tongue out and licks a wet stripe along the length. The sweeter taste of precome hits him but it isn’t as bitter or awful as before.

He becomes more confident as Negan groans beneath him and encourages him by threading his fingers through his long hair to guide his head. Negan grabs the base of his cock and pushes the tip against Daryl's lips until he opens them and lets Negan inside.   
The stretch hurts his jaw but he enjoys the little noises Negan makes as he guides Daryl’s head up and down with his rolling hips.

  
“That’s it. You take it so fucking well, Daryl. You were made for this, baby. Just like that- Ahh, yes! Fuck yes!”

  
Negan pulls Daryl’s head up just as he orgasms, thick ropes of cum shooting onto his lips and chin. Chuckling happily, Negan falls deeper into the pillow and ruffles Daryl's hair affectionately.

  
“Here, let me clean you up.”

Daryl is tugged into a slow, lazy kiss and he finds himself laughing when Negan licks his mess clean.

“Thanks for that, baby. We should probably get some sleep. Gotta get up bright and early.”

  
“Yeah. Thanks for doing that too. You’re damn good as well.”

  
Negan smiles tenderly, high on the afterglow. He tugs Daryl beside him and pulls the sheets over them. The hunter starts to turn over to present his back and Negan smiles at the show of trust. That's why he doesn’t look below his shoulders. Instead he leans over him to tap the light off, and lingers behind Daryl with a hovering arm.

  
“Can I cuddle you?”

  
“Yeah, you earned it.”

  
Negan lets his arm encircle Daryl's waist and brings himself closer until his chest meets the man's back. He noses at the long strands fanned on the pillow and snuggles into Daryl and drifts off to sleep.

  
Daryl stays up longer, listening to the rain beating down on the windows and roof. The thunder continues to growl in the distance and once in a while, a bright light filters through the shutters. He feels Negan’s breath on his neck and the quiet, reassuring beat of his heart in the pulse in his wrist. Daryl thumbs over the joint lightly, finding that he easily loses himself in the sensation of being with someone. Even if that someone is Negan, maybe there’s a way it can all work out for the better.

  
Daryl finally falls asleep in Negan’s arms, his heart and mind at peace with his decision to go a step further with Negan. Granted, he kinda skipped the friendship and jumped straight to sex but it’s not something he could picture himself doing with anyone else he’s ever met. Maybe Rick, if he’d get the chance one day but he likes Michonne and she’s good for Rick. He knows he couldn’t be better for Rick than she is. Daryl’s content with this.

There’s somebody else who cares for and sees him as something beyond a useful tool to a group. He snuggles back into Negan’s chest and lets himself relax in the steady rhythm until he drifts off.


	6. Chapter 6

Daryl wakes with a heavy arm slung over his side, fingers stroking at his chest with a surprising gentleness.

  
“Morning,” Negan drawls with a smile hidden in Daryl's hair. They slept together like this all night, and Negan has no plans to move away just yet.

  
“Hey.”

  
“Did you sleep well?” The hand draws circles on his stomach and moves downwards to stroke Daryl. The hunter hums and pushes into the hand, his own searching behind to help Negan.

  
“Yeah, you?”

  
“Yeah. It’s nice sharing with someone.”

  
“Thought you had a bunch of wives...” Daryl twists to face the Savior, a lazy smile tugging at his thin lips. Negan mourns the warmth of the hunter's back but he pulls Daryl closer, their cocks flushed together.

  
“I do but they don’t sleep in my bed. I don’t share with just anybody.”

  
“That makes me special, don’t it?” Daryl murmurs, brushing his nose against Negan's and nuzzling his face. Their stubble catches and the sound mixes with their soft pants and quickened breathes.

  
A strange look twinkles in the Savior's eyes and he smiles gently and presses a kiss on Daryl's forehead.

  
“It sure does, gorgeous.”

  
His hand moves to grab their lengths and jerk them off. Daryl shudders, touching whatever he can reach and leaning in for small kisses. With a groan, he spills in Negan's firm grip. The Savior follows shortly, moaning against Daryl's cheek.

  
“Thanks,” Daryl mumbles.

  
As he moves to sit up, he scrunches his face at the cooling mess on his leg and softening cock. Before he can look around for something to wipe it off, Negan sucks him into his mouth. Daryl nearly jumps at the oversensitivity and tugs at Negan’s hair to pull him off.

  
“D-don’t... It’s too much!”

  
Negan finally moves away once he's licked the man clean, a toothy grin spread across his handsome face. Daryl looks away shyly.

  
“We should get going. We’ve only got two more days in West Virginia before we should head back.”

  
Negan leaps up from the bed to retrieve his clothes from the floor. They must have fallen off the bed during their fun. He throws them on quickly, ignoring the scent, and deeply longs for a shower back home.

 

 

Once the RV pulls out of the garage, onto the damp street scattered with muddy puddles, Daryl throws the survival supplies and the dirty dishes (shoved in a plastic bag) inside and settles down in the passenger seat.

Negan is staring intently at a map, a red marker twirling between his long fingers. He draws up a thin line along the roads, picking out the way they came from Alexandria.

  
“You know where you wanna hit up?” Daryl asks curiously as he leans over to see the map. Negan hums thoughtfully.

  
“Yeah. There was a whole building park around here.” He taps at a plain area just near the border. “Tons of shit for carpenters, farmers. I went there a few times so I could fix up shit around the house. It was pretty big. I doubt anyone would go there but maybe there’s enough supplies that we can start expanding the walls.”

  
“At Alexandria?”

  
“No, I meant Sanctuary. I’ve got way too many people housed together. They need more space. But, I guess Alexandria too if that’s what you want.”

  
“Rick wanted to add gardens so we can start growing more. I saw them expand the walls once already, I know what we'll need.”

  
Daryl shuts his mouth and frowns at the floor. The words just escaped him. Some part of him got excited to start rebuilding his community. They hadn't grown bigger since the Saviors arrived. Negan tips his hand up with a couple of fingers, peering at him with an easy smile.

  
“Sounds good, Dee. Let’s get going.” He presses a soft kiss to Daryl's lips and pulls away with a grin when the hunter chases him for more.

  
Negan starts up the engine with a shaky rumble. The RV is ancient but hopefully it will hold for the whole trip. They pull out of the cul-de-sac and onto the main road, splashing up deep puddles.

* * *

 

  
The area Negan pointed out on the map is vast, filled with rows after rows of warehouses and loading docks. A small, commercial building had been set up near the entrance to help guide the customers.

Negan parks in the shade of a concrete warehouse, hidden from the main road and open space at the front of the park. Anyone driving past wouldn’t spot them.

  
They exit, weapons readied and loaded, and head into the closest building. Shelves reach up to the ceiling, laden with stacks of wood, glass panels, cement bags and thick blocks of cinderblocks. Everything material a builder could ever need gathered under one roof.

  
Daryl scouts ahead for walkers but the building is just as deserted as the parking lot. He finds Negan patrolling the aisles with an observant concentration in his eyes. A flashlight is held in one hand whilst he grabs at a folded note in his back pocket.

  
“Finding what you need?” Daryl asks as he joins him, peeking over Negan's shoulder.

  
“Yeah, I think so. Let’s check out the others. It’s not like we can take this shit back.”

  
Negan leads them into the next building, stabbing a walker stumbling between aisles.

  
“I’m thinking we can start adding outposts up to this place. Get some trucks going back and forth to Sanctuary. Plus that hotel would be a great place to fortify. Shit, I don't know why the fuck I’m telling you this.”

  
Negan frowns once he’s done rambling about his future plans. It’s kinda fucking stupid to tell his enemy this shit. Last night must have knocked his senses out.

  
“Me neither. But it’s a good fucking plan. It'd be easier than driving straight through like we did, give the drivers a break and all.”

  
“You know... I really fucking doubted you, Daryl,” Negan starts as they move on to the next place. “I never would've pinned you as a smart guy. Okay, I get that sounded really fucking rude, but I always saw you as an attack dog. Rick would tell you what to do and you’d bite, but here you fucking are sharing your mighty pearls of wisdom.”

  
“I’ve been with Rick since the start. I know I could lead, just don’t wanna. He’s taught me a lot.”

  
“I can see that. Shit, if your people hadn’t started this fuckfest of crap, maybe we could’ve gotten along.”

  
“If you dropped all that tribute shit, maybe then we coulda worked together. Still can. Ain’t too late to change shit.”

  
Daryl glances up when Negan doesn’t have a snarky answer. The Savior observes him with a strange expression before moving on to the final building.

 

 

The first thing Daryl notices is the bright lights and the scent of a fire. A group of people are scattered around the warehouse and every head turns towards the door. Before Negan can open his mouth and attempt to get them out of the situation, several people rise up and sprint to grab them.

  
Daryl bolts out.

He’s vaguely aware of Negan behind him as he ducks into hiding and waits for the people to run past. No one notices him. Their footsteps fade and Daryl becomes rapidly aware that Negan hasn’t joined him. In fact, as he peers over the crates he squatted behind, the Savior is nowhere to be seen.

  
After a few minutes, Daryl risks leaving his spot and scans the open lot and loading docks. That’s when he sees the bat, lying innocently beside the warehouse the people were in. A million curses fly through his head but Daryl shoves them down until he can focus.

  
He needs to find Negan. The people weren’t carrying weapons, he saw that much before he turned tail and left. But who knows what they are like? Daryl can’t trust them to keep Negan alive for long.

 

It’s night by the time he dares approach the warehouse again. He peeks through a dusty window and takes in the simple layout. The shelves have been cleared and blankets have been thrown on them to make rough bunk beds. A fire lights up the residents. Eight in Daryl's sight. There could be more.        Negan is sat on his knees, tied up to one of the shelves with a guard watching him closely with the barrel of a shotgun. An exit door is close by. Daryl smirks and heads off to complete his plan.

 

* * *

 

  
Not even the terrible smell of the warehouse and it’s unwashed residents bother Negan more than their constant barrage of questions. They’ve asked everything from: where are your people, did you come with just one other person? To whether he knew what day it was.

  
They took in his relatively clean appearance as a good sign. It meant he wasn’t living on the roads, and that he had access to water and other essentials. One woman poked at his stomach and rudely lifted his shirt, pointing out that his bones weren’t sticking out. She then proceeded to show Negan how skinny she was and went on a demanding rant to find out why he wasn’t starving like she was.

  
Negan, to his credit, didn’t smash her nose when she got uncomfortably close. He explained they were alone and that they had found a house with running water a couple days ago. They seemed to buy it, and Negan was glad he didn't have to worry about them coming to Sanctuary. It would just be a waste of bullets and time to drag their bodies from the front gates.

 

His eyes keep flitting up to the front doors in hope to see the hunter again. Surely he hadn’t abandoned him? It was a good place as any to leave him behind. Take the RV and go back with their looted supplies. He could tell the Saviors where Negan was and that he'd been out numbered. By the time Simon or Dwight could drag their asses up here, Negan would already be dead.

  
Surely Daryl wouldn’t do that? Right? Negan’s mind seems hell-bent on providing every reason why Daryl would leave him. All the deaths and problems he’d caused for Alexandria- all warranted and Negan stands by those actions- and slowly his hope starts to die.

  
His kidnappers are readying themselves for bed, shuffling about noisily. They keep a guard near him. Negan doesn’t pay them much attention.

  
A loud horn cuts through the noise and the group shoot up from their beds to look out the windows. Panic rises from them and a large group splits off to investigate. Negan smirks to himself, he shouldn’t have doubted the hunter.

  
Behind him, he hears the soft click of the exit door. The guard opposite him is too slow, a bolt shooting straight through their face with a squelching crunch. Slowly, the last two are picked off from the shadows of the warehouse. Daryl snakes quietly to Negan, his hands immediately falling to untie the ropes. Before he can say his thanks, Daryl pushes Lucille into his hands. Negan grins brightly and strokes the bat fondly, sending Daryl a wink.

  
“You found her! I knew you'd come back. You’d miss me too much.”

  
“Just shut up and keep quiet.”

  
Daryl leads him out, round the back of the warehouse and straight to the RV he'd moved to sound the horn. Even in the darkness, Negan can see the outlines of the people but they aren’t alone.

  
“I brought some walkers back here. Should keep ‘em busy till we can get out.”

  
They make it to the RV without being spotted. Negan finds the supplies are all accounted for and he sends a grateful nod to Daryl, seating himself behind the wheel. He starts up the engine, drawing the attention of both humans and walkers, and accelerates down through the front gates and onto the main road.

  
Once they’re a good two miles from the park, Negan pulls over and shuts off the engine.

  
“Jesus fucking Christ. That was something, huh. Nice thinking with the walkers. I’ll send a team out here to secure it. For now, I think I’ll drive a bit longer and find us a good place to stop for the night.”

  
“Okay,” Daryl mumbles. His eyes scan the road behind them. He’s expecting to see those people chasing them down any moment over the hill.

  
“You okay?” Negan notes the prolonged silence and rests a hand on the hunter's knee. “We're good. We got out.”

  
“I know. I’m fine. You?”

  
“Yeah, they didn’t even beat me up. Keep your eyes peeled for somewhere we can stop.”   
And then Negan starts the engine again.

* * *

 

  
After an hour of driving around rural West Virginia, they finally find a secluded road dotted with homes. Unwilling to clear them out, Negan opts to sleep in the RV for the night. Daryl hums a disagreement but he’s too tired to argue with Negan.   
Dinner is short. Neither men talk much and soon Negan moves to sit on the bed to untie his boots.

  
“You wanna join me tonight?” Negan asks with a tired smile.

  
“Just sleepin', Negan. I’m fucking beat.”

  
“Me too. Come on, it’s more damn comfortable than that bench.”

  
Daryl nods with a breathy laugh, and moves to sit beside Negan. Their shoulders and thighs press together and Daryl finds himself leaning against the warmth.

  
“You happy you decided to do this?” Negan asks, disturbing the peaceful silence that had settled between them. He can almost feel Daryl sighing mentally for ruining it.

  
“I don’t know. Feel like shit for enjoying it but I know I can’t avoid it.”

  
“I can’t stop thinking about what you said in that warehouse,” Negan starts with a gentle tone.

His arm loops around the hunter's shoulders and he rests his hand on Daryl's upper arm to stroke the bare, soft skin. Daryl shivers under his touch.

“About uniting. You know why I had to punish your people, and we’ve both got plenty of reasons to hate each other. I kinda wanna see what it would be like. If we could get along. But I don’t think Rick and I could ever see eye to eye. It’s a fucking shame, right? We could make a killer team together.”

  
“I can’t speak for Rick but I know you could sit down and talk. Bring in the other leaders and all. It could work. We’ve all got enough fighters but that don’t mean we gotta start a war.”

  
“I don’t want to start a war either, Daryl. Shit, you know what? I am gonna sit down with Rick. Things can’t get fucking worse if we do.”

  
Daryl observes him for a moment, scanning his eyes for any sarcasm or mirth but he finds honesty. Negan means it. Daryl may have just started something good between their groups.

  
“Thank you,” he whispers with a smile. Negan stares back with shock but Daryl shrugs it off and crawls up on the bed to rest with his back against the wall. “Night, Negan.”

  
“Goodnight, Daryl.”

  
Negan sits there for a minute longer, pondering something Daryl doesn’t feel like caring about. He’s beginning to drift off when the Savior finally joins him and wraps an arm around his waist to bring them closer. 


	7. Chapter 7

The small neighbourhood doesn’t provide much. Most of the homes have been raided several times and neither men have turned up anything beyond some clothes for Judy and some comics for Carl.

  
Both men reunite down the road, bags mostly empty and frustration etched clearly across their faces. Daryl doesn’t bother to ask what Negan found.

  
“We heading home tomorrow?” He asks instead, slumping down on the sidewalk.

  
“Yeah, we’ve been gone almost a week. It’ll take a few more days to get back home.”

  
“This trip worth it?”

  
“I guess. For expanding Sanctuary, definitely. Food wise, not so much. There’s still plenty to explore. The more outposts we build, the better and then we can really start going further.”

  
An engine rumble cuts off Negan, and the two turn just in time to see the RV pull away down the road.

  
“What the fuck?!”

  
Negan is sprinting after in an instant as Daryl loads a bolt and fires it. It strikes the back window, shattering it. The RV doesn’t stop and disappears out of sight.

  
“No! No, no, no! For fuck's sakes!”

  
Daryl drowns out the following string of swears Negan yells in the direction of the RV. Negan spins around sharply.

  
“Why the fuck weren’t you watching it?”

  
“Me? What about you, asshole? It’s your fucking RV!”

Negan growls and Daryl awaits the oncoming violence but it never comes. Red faced and fuming, Negan just turns away and follows the road the thieves took. Begrudgingly, Daryl follows.

 

The mood gets progressively darker and angrier with each fruitless hour. The only thing keeping Daryl from turning away and finding another vehicle, is that the RV chose a straight road with no exits. The thieves are also taking a road Daryl already drove on. He recognises the few buildings and bridges.

When Negan finally runs out of energy and his legs physically cannot carry him further, he slumps against a tree and tosses his backpack and Lucille (shoved inside) into the grass with a groan. Daryl joins him without a word.

  
“They’ll have to stop at some point,” he reasons. “Let's find another vehicle for now and try to catch up to them. Come on, I saw a garage nearby.”

  
“It'll be empty. Except the cars in pieces.”

  
“We'll see, won’t we? I can fix them up anyways. Beats sitting here and moping. I'm going without you if you don’t get your ass up.”

  
“Fine! Fuck...”

 

 

Daryl doesn’t like to admit when people are right and he isn’t. It’s fucking annoying. But Negan was right. The vehicles left inside the unlocked garage are in pieces. Missing tires, engines and doors. The only decent car he finds just needs it’s wheels shoved on.

  
With Negan's help, they manage to get the car set up. Only once they’re on the road again, the Savior actually thanks him. It’s a quiet murmur under his breath but Daryl hears it and risks patting Negan's shoulder. He lets his hand linger for a moment before returning it to the wheel.

 

Whether by some miracle or just sheer fucking luck, they find the RV again. The thieves have left it by some house and Daryl finds extreme satisfaction on climbing on board and settling down in the passenger seat. The only problem is the keys are missing. He relays that info to Negan.

  
“Let’s get them back, then.”

  
Daryl doesn’t trust the wicked smile on the Savior's face.

Inside the house, Negan is quick to pounce on a woman in the living room. Daryl doesn’t stick around to watch him knock her out, and head upstairs in case she wasn’t alone. He finds a man rummaging through the bathroom cabinets and throws a punch, only to be blocked.

  
The man struggles against Daryl's assault but once his head connects with the sink, he’s down for the count. All the noise has drawn out a third person and they wrap an arm around Daryl’s throat. The hunter shoves him backwards into a doorframe, slamming him repeatedly until Daryl is released. Before the man can regain his composure, Daryl's fist meets his temple and he falls to the ground with a heavy thump.

  
The hunter loots through their pockets and procures a set of keys, the exact one for the RV, and heads downstairs where he finds Negan standing over the woman, Lucille in hand.

  
“Hey, I got ‘em! Let’s just go.”

  
Negan doesn’t budge. He stays firmly planted over her, bat half raised but still clean. The woman's alive for now. Daryl strides over to pull on the man's arm gently. Negan could turn on him too.

  
“They stole our fucking shit.”

  
“And we stole it back. You don’t need to kill her. Look, there could be more of ‘em so let’s go now before we found out. Negan, please.”

  
The Savior finally turns away from the woman and sighs. Without a word, he stalks out of the house and climbs back on board the RV. All their bags are still there. When Daryl hands him the keys, he pulls away in a hurry and sets them back on track.  
After a while, he pulls out another set of keys. They’re for the car they took from the garage. He cranks open the window and tosses them out into the grassy banks. His eyes meet Daryl's and Negan lets out a sharp laugh. The hunter scoffs and turns to watch the view drift by.

 

  
It's the last night before they return to Alexandria. Daryl is buzzing with an excited energy, eager to see his friends after a week and a half of adventuring. Negan seems to share the sentiment. They’ve both been gone a good while and although Daryl has spent longer away from home before, this time he can’t bear to be away any longer.   
The two share a simple meal. They chat about trivial things, plans for their communities and just exchange easy banter until it’s time to turn in.   
Negan waits for him on the bed, and Daryl joins him once he’s finished the dishes.

  
“So what are we gonna do once we're home? I mean, you probably wanna stop this,” Negan starts with a fake confidence that Daryl can see cracking with nerves.

  
“I dunno. You gotta talk to Rick, sort shit out first. I’m... You know what? I’m cool if you wanna keep doing this. Just don’t tell anyone or show it off, okay? We keep this private and I’ll keep you around.”

  
Negan laughs softly. “Making me sound like I’m your bitch...”

  
“You are.” Daryl leans in to pull Negan into a kiss, fisting his shirt to bring him closer. When they move away, Daryl asks, “That cool with you?”

  
“Yes. It is. So how about we make good use of our last proper night together?”

  
“Sounds good.”

 

* * *

 

Daryl's return is met by a small gathering. Rick and his family are there, of course, along with Rosita and Tara. The RV is parked safely inside the walls and Daryl finds himself outside before he realised he got up. Negan follows close behind.

  
“I told you he'd be fine!” Negan announces loudly, keeping his arms away from Daryl because otherwise he’d pull the man close and kiss him. If Rick thinks it’s weird, Negan can’t tell.

  
“You okay, Daryl?”

Rick bypasses Negan completely and embraces Daryl warmly before patting his shoulder.

  
“Yeah, brought some stuff back. Take a look.”

The three men watch Rosita stride up to the RV and pull out bag after bag of resources.

  
“Jesus, you hit a goldmine?”

  
“Kinda. I’ll go bring this shit in.”

And with that, Daryl leaves the two leaders together. Michonne stays close but Carl and Judy go to help carry the food to the pantry.  
After a moment of silence, Rick looks up to Negan.

  
“You letting us keep all this?”

  
“Yeah, why not? Look, uh, I’ve gotta head home. Let the guys know I’m still breathing and all. You cool if I come back tomorrow? We need to have a talk.”

  
“Everything okay?”

  
“Ah, I think so. Daryl and I had a good few heart-to-heart's and he’s got plans for us. Pretty sure he’ll drag us both into it one way or another.”

  
“What _are_ you talking about exactly?”.

  
Negan pauses and that shark-like grin returns.

“Just thinking about alliances and shit... Ask Daryl. He’ll tell you. Like I said, I’ll be back tomorrow. There’s a lot of shit we’ve got to work out if we’re gonna get along.”

  
Negan pats Rick’s shoulder and heads back to the RV, leaving an incredibly confused Rick behind. Daryl is still loitering nearby and Negan takes the opportunity to tell him what he told Rick. After a minute of pleased murmur, Daryl wraps an arm around Negan’s back and hugs him against his side. When Negan leaves, Daryl waves him off.

  
Still standing there in shock, Rick shakes his head and takes Michonne's hand to see the restocked pantry. She’s just as confused but they’ll both have to wait until tomorrow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it folks! Hope you enjoyed this little story. Let me know what you thought of it. 
> 
> It only takes a minute of your day to write a comment.


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